


Falling Into You

by The Manwell (Manniness)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Duo POV, M/M, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-22
Updated: 2004-12-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 02:15:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manniness/pseuds/The%20Manwell
Summary: A few years after the wars have ended, Duo pays Heero a visit, hoping to get over his attraction to his friend.Companion fic to "Riding Out the Storm"





	Falling Into You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Riding Out the Storm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716235) by [The Manwell (Manniness)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manniness/pseuds/The%20Manwell). 

> An entry in the Moments of Rapture 2x1 Contest (2004)  
http://sharona1x2.com/rapture/contest2x1archive.html

****It’s been more**** than two years since I’d last seen him so I’d known that he’d probably changed. A lot. But it’s only when I’m standing on his doorstep, absorbing the sight of him—both familiar and new all at once—that I realize I hadn’t truly appreciated the impact peace had had on him.

Heero Yuy has grown up.

I mean, he’s always been somber and intense, mature beyond his years with a gaze that can see straight through concrete (well, it had seemed like it sometimes). There’d been not a few uncomfortable moments during the war when I’d been sure he’d see right through my smile and uncover a whole shitload of stuff I’d been trying to hide. From both him _and_ myself.

But there’s something different about him now. Something a little less... resigned. Yeah, I guess that’s the word I’m looking for. He almost looks... pleased to see me. But I can tell he’s having just as difficult a time processing this older me as I am processing the older him. And I can’t stop myself from smiling over that. It’s not my typical smile and I’m well aware that I’m leaving myself open to that probing gaze of his. I don’t mind. I don’t want to hide who I am anymore. At least, not from him. 

I’ve made this trip to see if he and I could manage to be friends without a mission or battle strategy to hold us together. So far so good, I suppose. But I start to get a little nervous when I remind myself of the _other_ reason for my visit: to get over my odd attraction and fascination with him. I’d begun to realize, over the last few months, that my infatuation with him had become increasingly distracting. So I’d suddenly decided a reality check had been in order. That evening, I’d called him up and asked to visit. He’d said “okay.” The first step in getting Heero Yuy out of my system had been implemented.

I’m _still_ not sure how I feel about that.

I notice the slight frown creasing his brows and even as I wonder what it is he’s thinking about, I decide to say something; we’re in danger of standing here staring at each other all evening.

“Well, hell, Heero,” I drawl, “it’s only been two and a half years. Did you forget what I look like?”

The frown vanishes and my grin widens. I’m rather pleased with myself that I managed to find something fun and relatively charming to say. And I’m _really_ pleased that I’ve managed to erase that little frown. All too often, Heero thinks _way_ too hard about things. He needs to lighten up, enjoy the moment a little more... Well, I guess the last two years hasn’t changed _everything._

I watch him struggle with a tiny grin for a very brief moment before giving into it. Damn, but that man has a beautiful smile.

“Hold on while I get the retina scanner,” he tells me and I nearly fall over. Heero Yuy just made a _joke!_ My God, the sky must be falling.

I let my happiness show through my smile and quip, “Why does it not surprise me you’ve got one of those things just lying around?”

His response is simple and complex at once: he steps back and opens the front door wider in invitation. There aren’t many people who can fully appreciate the significance of Heero Yuy inviting someone else—_anyone_ else—into his home. I cross the threshold, set my bag down and toe off my shoes. I know I really ought to take a good look around his place, do it justice. But I can’t.

I watch Heero’s gaze sweep over his living room. That critical, appraising look is in his eyes and I think I see a flicker of something... disappointment?... at what he sees. I can’t help myself; I’m fascinated. And that’s when he turns and catches me staring at him.

And, God help me, I can’t stop. He’s amazing.

For a long moment, we just look at each other. Heero seems frozen in place and I think, maybe, he’s feeling it, too: the attraction.

He moves away, stretching the moment. “Something to drink?” he asks, wandering into the kitchen.

“Sure,” I say, forcing my voice to stay light. I am here to visit a _friend,_ I remind myself. A _friend._ “Whatcha got?”

“Whatcha want?”

I cannot _believe_ I just heard Heero Yuy say that in his characteristic monotone. Oh, man. “Water’s fine,” I manage to say through a mouth that must be stretched to the max in an ear-to-ear grin.

He glances over his shoulder at me, not quite believing that I’m this easy to please. I just keep on grinning and shrug. I’m a simple guy, really.

I watch him pull down a glass from the cupboard and fill it from the filtration system in the refrigerator. I idly notice the physical changes in him. There aren’t too many. He’s still insanely strong. His hair is still the messy bird’s nest it’s always been. His shoulders are broader and...

He hands me the tumbler and our fingers brush as I accept it. I don’t think he notices. But I do.

“You’re taller,” I blurt, finishing my interrupted thought aloud. Wow, witty conversationalist I am.

“Not as tall as you,” he returns while getting a glass down for himself. I don’t attempt to argue with him about it. I think I’ve got an inch on him now, maybe two. The difference is hardly worth mentioning.

“Looks like you’re still cutting your own hair, too.” I almost snort at the thought of Heero Yuy going to the barber shop and sitting with one of those checkered aprons draped over him. As if Heero would let just _anyone_ that close to him with anything that can be used as a deadly weapon.

“Looks like you still haven’t cut yours,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice.

I cannot seem to get over the sight of him. I just stand there, glass of water in hand, staring. I can’t remember a time when he’d put this much effort into a casual conversation. Damn, how much did I miss out on during the war because there’d been “better things” to talk about?

“You noticed,” I say, my mouth on autopilot. As usual.

“What don’t I?”

I feel myself falter.

Oh, crap. It had never occurred to me that he’d noticed the way my eyes had followed his every move during the war. So what the hell did _that_ little comment of his mean? That he’d known about my infatuation? And if so, did he agree to my visit now because he’s willing to ignore it and maintain a friendship or because he feels similarly about me?

Ah, screw it. I’ll think myself black and blue later.

“Yeah...” I muse, attempting to segue into another, safer topic. “What don’t you notice?” I stall by taking a sip of water. Luckily an idea occurs to me and I tell him, “But I seem to recall surprising you enough to get you to drop your gun a few years ago...”

“I didn’t make that mistake a second time, did I?” he reminds me and that small, shy smile pulls at his lips.

“Yes, well,” I admit, grinning, “I was rather reluctant to shoot you again.”

“It’s nice you tell me this _now,_” he says with a mild glare.

Soft laughter rolls out of me. “Better late than never.”

“Right.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

A moment of silence settles between us. We watch each other sip at our respective glasses of water and I just can’t take my eyes off of him. I’m beginning to debate the wisdom of my visit. I don’t seem to be working Heero Yuy _out_ of my system.

“Where are you staying?” he asks, breaking the silence I hadn’t noticed yet.

I fidget a little. It’s not that I don’t want to answer his question. It’s just I don’t want it to sound like I’m looking for a handout. But... it _would_ be really cool to hang out with him as much as I can during my layover. “Not sure yet,” I admit. “I just grabbed a cab from the spaceport.”

He takes a moment to think about that. I don’t say anything to try to sway him one way or the other. If he offers... well...

“The couch is a futon...”

I hesitate even though I’d been hoping to hear those exact words. “You sure?”

He looks a little peeved at my wariness. “I’m offering aren’t I?”

“Sounds like it to me.” I try to keep the huge grin off my face but, hell, even _I_ can hear it in my voice.

Heero smiles, too, and I’m thankful I had the good sense to accept his invitation. Very thankful.

** **...** **

** **Heero orders pizza.** **

We arrange ourselves around the coffee table in the living room on matching cushions. Aside from these and the couch/futon there isn’t much else in the room. I don’t dwell on the feeling of emptiness in Heero’s home. I’m here to see him, not bemoan his grudge against frivolous electronics and wall art.

After a moment of careful consideration, I ask him, “Why’d you come back to L1?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. From past experience, I’d say it’s not one of his “I’m ignoring that irrelevant question, you idiot” silences. I think he might actually be thinking about answering me. But, just in case, I rely on my old habit of ignoring the fact that I asked just in case Heero decides not to say anything.

I concentrate on fighting for a mouthful of pizza. Damn, but I think cheese has a vendetta against me. Ever since that time I’d passed up the real thing for that processed cheese product in a spray can it’s been impossible for me to eat the stuff gracefully. I’m in the middle of glaring at the gooey strings of mozzarella dangling from my lips when Heero decides to talk to me.

“Connections,” he says, his mouth twitching.

I must be quite the sight: bent over my plate, cheese and sauce suspended between my mouth and the mother slice, looking up at him through my brows. Maxwell, thy name means “elegance.” 

Still almost smiling at my on-going wrestling match with my dinner, he continues, “Living here helps me remember who I used to be before J took me in.”

I win this round and vengefully enjoy my hard-earned bite. I nod but I don’t say anything. I don’t, in all honesty, share that sentiment about my own past. And I think Heero senses this. His next words confirm my suspicion.

“Why’d you take a job working for Quatre?”

With a wry grin, I say, “It’s not like he offered it to me. I applied like everyone else.”

Looking rather amused, Heero drawls, “Something tells me he didn’t bother to interview any other candidates.”

I shrug. “I had a hunch I’d get the job if Q was checking over the applicants himself. And after storming X18999 with you I realized how much I missed piloting. But I didn’t figure a commercial shuttle company would bother with me since I’m not certified and I’m kinda underage. So yeah, that’s why I’m flying one of Quatre’s personal shuttles for him.”

“Doesn’t sound as exciting as crashing into a colony,” he comments.

I have to laugh at that. “There’s not much that is,” I say. “Not many occasions for an adrenaline rush in this day and age.”

“I guess neither of us were thinking that far ahead when we were busting our asses for peace.”

My brows arc upward. “Heero Yuy? An adrenaline junkie? Pull my other leg.”

And then, to my _complete_ surprise, he reaches under the glass coffee table. I blink at him while his hands hover over my ankles. “Which would that be?” he inquires with a gleam in his eyes. “Right or left?”

Pizza is forgotten. Neighbors and neighboring colonies are forgotten. I lean back on my elbows and _laugh._ I mean, yeah, I know it isn’t _that_ funny but this is Heero Yuy. Being playful. Oh, man. Never in a million years would I have guessed...

After abusing Heero’s ears with my mirth for a good minute, I force in a deep breath. I pull myself upright again but go a step further by leaning my arms on the coffee table and confiding the first thing that pops into my head. “I have missed you, Heero Yuy.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true. I _have_ missed him. _A lot._ But what I’m discovering more and more is that my missing the guy I knew during the war doesn’t begin to compare with my missing this more open, witty _friend._ God, what had taken me so long to call him up?

“You gonna eat that breadstick?” I ask. I have _got_ to stop thinking about all the time I’ve wasted. A change of subject is mandatory at this point.

He shakes his head and I notice that tiny frown is back. “You have it.”

I reach for it and take a nibble. Damn, he’s still thinking about what I’d said. I can see him trying to force a reply together. I don’t need to hear it. Really, I don’t.

“Whatcha doing tomorrow?”

Heero pauses at my blatant redirection of the conversation. The frown disappears and he relaxes a little. I can’t help but feel relieved.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Cool,” I reply with exuberance. “You can give me a tour or something.”

Rather flatly, he says, “I suppose I could do that.”

I’ve got to smile at that. “You’re blowing me away with that overwhelming display of enthusiasm, Yuy.”

“Ah,” he returns with a grin that’s becoming less hesitant with every use. “I please to aim.”

** **...** **

****He’s watching me again.**** I’d been noticing it all day and it’s been making it really hard for me to concentrate on keeping things casual. I decide I just can’t ignore it anymore.

“Whatcha looking at, Heero?” I watch him back from the corner of my eye. How he manages to lean against a _jungle gym_ of all things and _still_ project a poised air, I have not a clue.

He says frankly, “You.”

Woah. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I mean, this could take things in a whole new direction and I’m supposed to be trying to get _over _him, for the love of God. I end up giving him my complete and undivided attention. I don’t say anything because I sense that his next words will establish just where we are in relation to one another.

He glances away. “You’ve changed a lot.”

Now where had _that_ come from? I examine his nervous tension and feel myself start to smile. At this point, I’m pretty sure the attraction isn’t completely one-sided. That’s enough for me. I’m more than happy to continue with this little dance of ours.

“Not so much,” I reply, still studying him. “You on the other hand...” I gesture toward his shadowed jaw and then slide a finger along my own smooth chin.

He winces. I watch him lift a hand and trail his fingers along his 5 o’clock shadow. Sometime tomorrow morning, if I’m really lucky, I might have a dusting of what Trowa calls “duck fuzz” on my chin. I can’t remember how many times I’ve glared at him for reminding me of the fact that I’ve been short-changed in the “manly hair” department. At least I’m not alone. Quatre and Wufei and I make up a rather nice trio of hairless wonders. Three against one, I often tell Tro, aren’t the best odds. But he just gives me that little grin of his and says, “Bring it on.” The jerk. One day I will. I really will.

I blink out of my reminiscing when Heero very quietly tells me, “For a long time I thought I was Japanese but...” He rubs his chin again and his eyes sparkle with a hint of amusement. “Right now, I’m feeling a bit more... Slavic.”

I laugh so hard the jungle gym has to hold me up. Oh Christ. He says that like a guy’s ethnicity is as interchangeable as his moods. I laugh even harder as I imagine Heero casually saying to me, “You know, Duo, I’m feeling rather Slavic today.”

When I finally manage to catch my breath, I look up at him from my ungainly sprawl against the metal bars. “Well, it’s only fair, I guess,” I tell him. “If I get to be taller, then you get to be hairier.”

He doesn’t buy it because he says, “I think you got the better end of that deal.”

“Aw, being hairy’s not such a bad consolation prize.” I finally decide I’d better stand up and, in the process, almost miss Heero’s response.

He mutters, “Should have picked what was behind door number three...”

I have to chuckle. I am seriously liking this wry sense of humor he’s been keeping under lock-and-key. “Tro’s got the best deal out of all of us, I think.”

He gives me this look that says “Oh?” and I’m forced to elaborate. “_Very_ tall... _and_ he’s growing a goatee.”

I can tell he can’t visualize that. Trowa with facial hair is a rather amusing sight. I think he’s trying to compete with the lions. And the guy has the nerve to think _I _have issues... 

Heero gets quiet again and the both of us end up gazing out at the city as the streetlamps and commercial signs twinkle to life. Only when darkness has fallen and the city is fully illuminated before us do I decide to comment.

“Well,” I say, “you’ve shown me the modern art museum, the chamber of commerce, the engineering college, the L1 historical society, and the library with the largest collection of electronic data files in all the colonies.” I pause and direct my attention toward him again. “I hate to ask,” I say slowly, “but what do you do for fun around here?”

“What?” he asks flatly, “A FTP file upload session not enough for you anymore?”

“Don’t tell me _you_ still find it oddly fulfilling?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

I lean back against the jungle gym and grin affectionately. “You are _such_ a geek.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It _is _a bad thing if you know more about the latest Linux update than where to take a guy out on a Sunday night.”

Oh, crap. I did _not_ just say that. No, wait. I did. Oh, _crap_. I can feel his gaze on me. The x-ray vision is back and I can’t stop myself from toying with the buttons on my jacket. I realize that if I were to say something now I would just be babbling and that would make everything worse, so I’ll just have to pretend that my last comment didn’t sound like I wanted him to take me out... like, you know... on a _date._

Heero seems a little surprised and somewhat amused by either my words or my display; I can’t decide which. He consults his watch and starts off down the path to the city. Before I can ask him what the deal is, he calls back, “Come on.”

I just blink at him. Oh yeah, all those amazing stories you’ve heard about the lightning-quick reflexes of a gundam pilot are _so_ true.

“You don’t want us to be late, do you?” he inquires.

Dude, is he...? Ah, screw it. I’m not going to ask. If Heero wants to surprise me, I’ll let him. Who knows; I might actually enjoy it.

** **...** **

****“The Math**** ****and Science Center?”****

Okay, I have to admit I’m a little disappointed.

All right, all right... _a lot_ disappointed. But then I catch sight of the very obvious smirk tugging at his lips and I feel hope blossom anew.

“Trust me,” he says.

And I do, so I follow him up the steps and into the building. He leaves me idling next to a wide, winding staircase and crosses the lobby to the ticket counter. I’m really wondering now. I mean, I’m in a _math and science museum_ so how interesting can it be? I almost pull an imaginary muscle trying to think of something more entertaining that those huge funnel things you can race pennies into. But before I can convince myself Heero’s idea is going to be a monumental failure at entertaining me, he’s back.

I almost open my mouth to ask “Hey, what gives?” but he just sort of shakes his head at me and starts to climb up the stairs. Well, it’s not like I’m _not _going to follow. I’ve at least got to figure out what he’s planned. I can tell he’s keeping an eye on me, waiting for my reaction.

And, boy, does he get one.

My first thought is: “L1 has an Omni Theater?” And then, as the current production’s poster comes into view, my second thought is: “I think I love him.”

He’s almost laughing at me, but I don’t care. I’m absolutely overwhelmed by this surprise. I don’t think I’d ever mentioned how much I love the Earth’s storms. I don’t think I’d ever even had a conversation involving weather with Heero Yuy. But... _damn._ This is perfect.

I glimpse a hesitance in his expression right before I smile. I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a surprise as cool as this one. In this moment, Heero Yuy has managed to earn my complete, unwavering trust.

His shoulders relax slightly and I realize he hadn’t been as sure as he’d let on. He nods toward the theater and I follow him in. I’ve never been inside one of these before. I’m always too busy to be a chaperone for one of Q’s nieces’ school field trips so even though L4 has a massive, state-of-the-art Omni Theater, I still haven’t had the pleasure of experiencing it. Something tells me it won’t hold a candle to this first time with Heero.

“Where shall we sit?” I ask.

“Wherever you want,” he replies.

I take a second look around, this time with a goal in mind. I estimate the center of the curving screen and decide on a pair of seats in the center of the theater about two-thirds up. Heero nods in acceptance and then... and then the weirdest impulse comes to me and I reach down to grasp his wrist. I don’t even think about doing it until it’s been done and I’m leading him up the stairs like he’s some sort of child.

Heero Yuy is _not_ a child.

But he doesn’t make any sort of motion to disentangle himself from my grip and I don’t attempt to remove it. Even after we’ve settled into our seats I don’t let go. I’m too engrossed with the slightly elevated rhythm of the pulse in his wrist. My fingertips are pressed just so against his warm skin and I softly count off his heartbeat in my head.

If there are other people here, I don’t bother to notice them. I’m grinning softly up at the projection of stars across the screen, waiting for film to start, thinking there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now, no one I’d rather be with when an ear-splitting crack slams through the room, nearly peeling me out of my own skin. A blinding bolt of lightning divides the screen and I feel a strong breeze against my face. The storm has arrived.

The angle shifts until we’re among the clouds and spinning down with the rain. I’m only marginally aware of my hand moving over Heero’s. He shifts beneath my questing fingers and I trail the very tips over his thumb, across his palm, and then they somehow find their way to rest between his. 

We’re racing the raindrops to the ground. I can feel the wind in my face and hear the fury of the storm around us. It’s exhilarating and awe-inspiring and I can feel a strange, unsettling pressure in the center of my chest. But, through the whole thing, Heero’s holding my hand. And I’m...

...falling.

** **...** **

****I’m awake,**** but I’m just lying here. It’s too early to get up and I care too much about remaining cocooned inside my warm blanket, remembering the night before, to convince myself otherwise.

Last night had been... Wow. How can I possibly describe it? Something had happened while we’d been holding hands in the Omni Theater that I just can’t put into words. It’s like I can feel him now. Like a part of him had settled into me and something of me had seeped into him. We hadn’t said a thing during the show nor afterward when we walked back to Heero’s place, hands still linked.

And we’d held on as he’d unlocked the door and reset the security system. We’d kicked off our shoes in silence and wandered into the living room. I remember the stripes of ghost-pale light that had painted his hair and face. I remember the way the lines of shadow had followed the curve of his cheekbone. I remember his gaze and it had felt like he was crawling inside me.

It’s just as well we’d parted then. If he’d stared at me for much longer, I probably would have kissed him.

Ah, who am I trying to kid? I _would _have kissed him. Quite soundly. And I would have ruined the chance to be friends with him.

A change in the air draws my attention and I stop trying to imagine Heero’s reaction to an amorous overture. Without looking, I somehow know Heero’s awake. In careful silence, I peek over the edge of the blanket just in time to glimpse him drifting into the kitchen. With his eyes half-closed and jaw dark with stubble, he has—without even trying—managed to motivate me into getting out of bed. Call the Vatican; there’s been a miracle.

I hover in the doorway, watching him rub at his bare chest. He’s frowning again and I wonder what it is he’s thinking. As I cross the hardwood floor on quiet feet, I take in the white-and-navy striped flannel pajama bottoms riding low on his hips. _Keep it casual,_ I tell my rampaging hormones.

I consider warning him of my presence but I can’t seem to bring myself to break the comfortable silence we’d initiated the night before. So I glide up next to him and carefully slide an arm around his shoulders. I almost shiver at the feel of his skin against my inner arm. There’s no way I’ll be getting over this man in the near future. I think I’ve finally accepted this as a fact.

He doesn’t pull away, which is nicely encouraging. He does turn his face toward me and I know he’s discovering a soft smile curving my lips. I can see the shift in his expression that tells me he’s pleased by my greeting. My gaze wanders over his features and—without thinking—I lift my free hand to his jaw. But then, seeing what I’m about to do, I pause. And I wait. If he doesn’t want me to touch him, I’m sure I’ll see it reflected in his eyes.

I see an invitation.

My fingertips make contact with his beard-roughened skin. The feel of the tiny hairs against my sensitive fingertips is almost painful but I slowly drag my hand along his jaw anyway, fascinated by the sound of the friction. And then I remember my own duck fuzz. My smile shifts to one of embarrassment as I trail those same fingertips over my pathetically smooth skin. Oh well, at least I’m taller.

Heero shares my silent joke and I play it up, shaking my head and sighing with dejection. He even lets me push him onto a stool while I take over his morning routine. One pot of green tea, comin’ up.

I can feel him watching me and discover that I actually like the sensation. I glance over my shoulder at him—a small, knowing smile on my lips—to let him know just that. As I set the kettle on the stove, I try to imagine what I’d be doing right now if I hadn’t arrived in L1 early, if I were still in my own apartment in L4 waiting for my flight plan to go through...

Heh. I know exactly what I’d be doing. I’d be rolling over trying to have a dream half as good as the reality I’m experiencing right now.

** **...** **

****“I have to**** ****head back soon.”**** Damn, that came out rather blunt. I glance up to soften my words with an expression of regret and feel a knot tie itself up in my chest at the look on Heero’s face. He’d assumed I’d be staying for a while longer. Perhaps, he’d even been _hoping_ I was.

“I checked on the shuttle this morning,” I continue, not really sure of how to reassure him. “It’s all loaded and fueled up. My flight plan’s gone through, too.”

“When?” he asks me, his voice gruff.

He _had_ hoped I’d be staying longer. I can see it in his eyes. “This evening. 19:40.”

I play with the mound of pasta on my plate as stiff, expectant silence makes a stop by our table.

“Will you visit again?”

I look up and smile, elated that he really wants me to. “Maybe,” I reply, going for the smirk I know I’ll get if I tease him just a little. “If you ask real nice.”

And there it is. The corner of his mouth quirks up for me. “I’ll send you a postcard,” he says in that monotone I used to hate.

I laugh. “You do that.”

I attempt to spear another bite of spaghetti, aware of Heero’s gaze examining my every move. I really can eat like a normal human being. I hadn’t been raised by wolves or three-toed sloths or anything. Really. But, for some reason unbeknownst to myself, I cannot accomplish this with Heero watching me. Yet another strand of spaghetti smacks me in the chin and I can _feel_ the new puddle of sauce on my face. Grumbling, I reach for my very abused napkin.

Seeing my predicament, Heero contributes, “You wouldn’t have that problem if you’d eat spaghetti like a civilized person.” I watch him gracefully twirl a forkful of pasta into a neat buddle with the help of a large spoon beneath the tines.

I arc a brow at him, highly amused by his little demonstration. “What makes you think I _want_ to be civilized, oh great pasta guru?” I challenge.

He meets my gaze as he chews and swallows. I can feel my brows hiking higher in a look of silent expectation. He doesn’t say anything, just gives a little huff of defeat, signals our server, and asks for another napkin.

I laugh. I never would have figured Heero for a “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” kinda guy.

So, the second napkin offers up its life to keep one Duo Maxwell relatively sauce-less and the rest of lunch proceeds easily. I’m rattling my complimentary mint against my teeth as I follow Heero’s lead out onto the street and I wonder where he’s going to take me now. After the Omni Theater, I don’t dare underestimate him.

We’re meandering along when a collection of colors catches my attention. I stop and turn toward the display window in order to drink in the sight of a warm-looking flannel shirt comprised of a pale caramel and bitter chocolate plaid. I think what’s struck me about this particular garment is that the colors are almost the exact shade of Heero’s skin and hair.

Oh, man. Somebody, launch me into orbit. I am _so _gone for this man. The mere thought of how he’d look in this shirt while sporting that late-evening beard of his is causing my hormones to do seriously naughty things...

I can only imagine the look I must have on my face at this moment. And it must be rather scary because Heero sounds rather worried when he asks, “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing.” I strive for nonchalance. Judging by the full-blown suspicion in Heero’s expression, I don’t quite make it. I watch him study the store’s façade over my shoulder and I have to laugh; he doesn’t have a clue as to what’s set me off.

He attempts to discourage me with a glare then latches onto my arm and drags me down the street. Heero apparently prescribes to the “out of sight, out of mind” philosophy as well.

We end up in another park of sorts. One with fountains and benches and small tables artfully scattered around. A park for grown-ups. I can see a few patches of grass where—it’s likely—folks do Tai Chi in the morning.

“Sit,” he tells me. I recognize it for the command it is. I feel a little guilty about weirding him out back there, so I meekly obey. But I can’t quite keep the amusement out of sight. I know he doesn’t trust me any further than he can throw me at this moment, but he doesn’t say anything else before he stalks off to have a chat with an older man at a vendor.

When he turns back to our table, I spare the object under his arm the tiniest glance. I’m actually more entertained with painting that flannel shirt on him and attempting not to drool all over myself.

Dear God, I am _so _buying that shirt...

He carefully places the small box he’d carried over in front of me on the table. I send him a questioning look as he takes his seat across from me. I disengage the brass latch and slowly lift the lid. And what I see inside...

I grin. My predatory instincts roar to life as I lift out a worn, wooden pawn and take in the convenient, checkered tiles decorating the table’s surface. No, I don’t think I’ll underestimate Heero’s concept of entertainment ever again.

“You really are a masochist,” I say, completely thrilled.

I notice he doesn’t deny the accusation. “How long has it been since you’ve played?”

I have to think back a few years. “Peace Million.”

“Hm.”

“White or black?”

He doesn’t have a preference so I claim white and, as avid chess players know, white _always_ makes the first move. And I intend to. Heero doesn’t know it yet but this chess game is a mere warm-up exercise. Not on this visit—and perhaps not even during the next one—but _soon_ I’ll be taking this game of ours to a whole new level.

** **...** **

****I lean back into the seat,**** close my eyes, and let the cabbie do the driving. I still ache from what had felt like the hardest good-bye I’d ever had to say. I’d had to force myself to walk away. Damn, but that had felt like I’d been physically tearing myself away from him.

And, for a minute, I’d almost walked out the door without telling him... _something._ I’d stood there, ready to step over the threshold, and I’d known I couldn’t just walk away without saying any part of what I’d been feeling. Without further thought, I’d whirled around, dropped my bag, and pulled him to me. At the last possible moment, I’d managed to keep my grip from becoming painfully tight. I’d breathed him in deep, lowered my mouth to his ear, and whispered, “Thank you.”

Thank you for opening your home to me. Thank you for opening yourself to me, for letting me in, for showing me this side of you I’ve never seen before. Thank you for knowing me so well, for appreciating my weirdness, and for wanting to know even more. Thank you for everything that you are... But, most of all, thank you for letting me be... well, _me._

Those two words just don’t seem to be enough now that I think about it. I open my eyes and grin at the cab driver. “Hey, man. I’ve changed my mind. Do you think we could take a short detour on the way to the spaceport?”

The man shrugs. “Sure thing. It’s your dime,” he tells me.

That it is. I direct him to the men’s clothing store I’d seen earlier. During the short scenic tour, I open my duffle, tear a piece of paper from my journal, and scribble out a note to Heero.

When we arrive at the small store, I promise my driver I’ll only be gone five minutes and hop out. I stride into the shop, my gaze sweeping the racks in search of _that_ shirt. A flash of caramel-and-chocolate draws me near and I’m so intent on reaching my destination that I almost don’t see it.

I pause in front of the rack, my eyes riveted to a blue-on-blue plaid shirt that surpasses my previous obsession. I pull out a likely size and slip it on over my T-shirt. I’m able determine that there’s more than enough room for it to be a comfortable fit on Heero. Happily, I shrug it off and start toward the cash register. But I pause. If I’m going to get this blue shirt for Heero, then I’m damn well gonna buy the caramel and chocolate one for _me._

I ask the clerk to box up Heero’s flannel and while she’s taking care of it I comb through the shelves of snack items. I can’t forget my friendly cabbie now can I?

As my credit card number is being savored by the machine, I make one final request. I turn on my most charming grin and ask her, “I don’t suppose you know anyone who might be interested in making a little money on a rush-delivery, do you?”

** **...** **

****I breathe a sigh**** of relief and allow myself a moment. I lean against the inner hull of the shuttle I’ll soon be piloting back to L4 and sift through my memories of the last two days. I manage to reaffirm my initial impression of my time spent in Heero’s company; it had been... incredible, enlightening, priceless.

However...

I am so glad it’s over. I need some space. I need to reevaluate my feelings. I need to build up the walls that contain all the emotions I absolutely, positively _cannot _show Heero.

God, I’m completely exhausted. I sigh again and rub a hand over my face. Time to get to work. I push myself away from the wall and head for the cockpit. I’ve still got a good portion of my pre-flight checklist to get through before I—

“Heero?”

It really _is _him. Damn. Wearing the shirt I’d just bought for him no less. And, _man_, does he look _good_ in it...

I’m completely taken aback and unprepared for this surprise. I just stare at him, my brain processing the presence of his duffle bag slung over one shoulder. He thinks he’s going somewhere? With... with _me?_ Oh, Christ...

He hesitates and so do I. He looks unsure of himself and I don’t have enough information about what he intends to do to attempt to help him out. But then the most formidable expression of determination settles over his entire being. He turns away and swings the shuttle door shut with a resounding _slam!_ Then, crossing his arms over his chest, he informs me, “I’m coming with you.”

I can’t think of anything to say. I’m too busy trying to keep my two, distinct trains of thought from slamming into each other in a head-on collision. The first is whooping for joy that I don’t have to wait weeks to see him again. The second is screaming at me to get him the hell out of here before he figures out how I feel about him. Which one to choose?

Iny, meeny, miney, moe...

“Okay,” I hear myself say happily. Woah, wait a minute... When did I decide to go along with this?

He blinks at me; I’ve surprised him with my complete lack of argument. Good, at least I’m not the only one off-balance. Now’s as good a time as any to establish those “friend” boundaries again, I guess.

“Nice shirt,” I say, attempting to lighten this whole thing up with a joke or ten.

“Isn’t it?” he replies. And for a minute, I think maybe I can do this. Maybe I have the strength to get through a sixteen hour flight with Heero next to me the entire time. But then he looks up at me through his brows and states through that damn sexy smirk of his, “If you ask nicely, I might let you borrow it.”

I want him.

The need slams into me and I marvel at how I honestly thought I could control this. I don’t even bother to struggle with the desire, to shove it back into its rusty box. I stare back at him, letting him see exactly what’s in my gaze. Can he see the fantasy in my mind as I “borrow” that shirt right off of him? As I slide it from his shoulders? Chase the fabric down his arms? Leave the cuffs buttoned around his wrists so that the flannel becomes a pair of soft restraints?

Heero simply stares back at me. Maybe he can’t see it. But maybe he does and maybe I don’t want to know what his answer is. I retreat and attempt to calm myself. If he’s determined to come with me, I’d better give him the ten cent tour.

“I’ll show you around, then.”

I can hear him behind me as I narrate points of interest: the kitchenette, the head.

“And here’s the bunk room,” I continue in a carefully neutral voice. I open the door and turn on the light. “Go ahead and secure your stuff and then I’ll show you the cockpit.”

I think maybe I know how he must have felt right after he invited me in and found me staring at _him_ rather than his furniture. Heero’s gaze has yet to leave me and I’m starting to get really nervous. I’m kind of amazed I haven’t jumped his bones yet. Ah, well, there’s a good dozen hours left for me to resist him.

Heero makes no move to stow his bag and I find myself looking at him. Big mistake. Monumental. Mount Everest comes to mind. I feel that fire flare back to life again and I _know_ I can just _not_ pretend anymore. Maybe on another day, after I’d rebuilt the barriers... But not today.

A long breath hisses out of me as I abruptly give in. “Why?” I ask. I can barely hear my own question over the rush of my own blood.

He’s quiet for a moment. An eternal moment. And then he says, “Why not?”

And blessed control floods back into me. I’m actually a little angry with him. I am not some interesting novelty. I will _not_ be some spontaneous curiosity for him. What I want from him is far more than a “Why not?” can provide. I’m perversely pleased that this has been said. I’d been so close to screwing things up very badly.

I’m about to continue the tour when he cuts me off by amending his earlier rationalization. He confesses, “Because I need to.”

Does he mean it? Do I want him to? Jesus, can I manage to make up my God damn _mind?_

His bag slides from his shoulder and he reaches out. His hand brushes mine and I feel him deliberately interlace our fingers. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. I can see he’s still unsure, but this much—my touch—he _knows_ he wants. And, by God, if he doesn’t back off _now_ he’s going to get a hell of a lot more than just a little hand-holding.

Heero thumb caresses the back of my hand in blatant invitation. My breath slams to a stand-still in my lungs. I lean closer to him. I wonder if he has any idea of what he’s initiating. I almost don’t want him to. I’m so close... If he backed off now I doubt anyone would be able to hold me legally responsible for my actions.

His name pours past my lips on a breath. I’m almost touching him. I can feel the heat of his skin radiating through the nearly non-existent space between us.

There’s an ache in my voice when I say, “Stop me.”

Stop me from ruining our friendship. Stop me from making this massive mistake. Stop me because I cannot stop myself.

And his response comes in the form of a gesture. An infinitesimal movement of his head as he soundlessly tells me, _No._

I would have groaned if I’d cared to waste the time drawing the sound out. I don’t. An instant of sound signals my defeat and then I’m kissing him. And he’s so warm and smooth against my mouth and I can feel the urgency building in me but I beat it back down. This is our first kiss and, if I manage not to screw it up, hopefully not our last. I slide my lips over his, caressing. I even exhale against his mouth, introducing that sensation to him as well. I hear his abrupt intake of breath and know I’m on the right track. Reluctantly, knowing there won’t be any turning back, I complete the circuit between us and touch my tongue to his lower lip. 

_Let me in, Heero..._

I wonder if he can hear me because he does. His dark eyes slide closed completely as I enter him. I stroke his mouth and offer him my soul on my breath. I’m his. If he pushes me away now...

He doesn’t. His strong fingers twist into my shirt and pull me closer. And now that I know that he really wants this, I loosen the reins on my passion just a bit more. I cover his mouth completely, allowing him no escape from me. A rough purr rumbles out of his throat and I respond by completely invading his space. My thigh slides easily between his and the feel of him against me is exquisite. My fingertips dance along his throat, measuring his pulse. He’s as far gone as I am.

It hurts to do so but I lean away from him. This is our last chance. I can still stop. I’ll never be able to just be his friend again, but I can stop before we submit to each other. Dragging in ragged breaths, I look down at us, intertwined. Our hands, our legs, his fingers in my shirt. Finally, our gazes merge and I have to ask him. I have to know that he’s completely sure.

He glares back at me. That does it. How can I not respond to that need in his eyes? I stare into his perfectly blue eyes for a moment longer and know, without a doubt, that I’ve crossed the line. Dear God, I hope he really, truly wants this, too, because I’m pretty sure this ticket is one-way only.

And then he rocks his hips against my thigh and I can _feel _him so hot and hard through the fabric of his jeans. Oh, hell _yes_, I want him. But I’m able to take that desire and contain it. The burn of it is not a little bit familiar. What isn’t familiar is the humility. I gaze down on him, seeing the passion glittering in his eyes. Feeling his body offer itself to me. And I’m... honored that he would allow me to see him like this, to touch him like this, to trust me to stoke his passion until he’s weak with it. I have never received a gift parallel to this.

I groan as I lower my mouth to his neck. And my entire body tightens as he leans back and allows me full range of his throat. This little bit he has freely given but I desperately need more. I pull my other hand from his grasp and start at the bottom of the flannel, freeing each button reverently. My lips nip at the skin hidden beneath his jaw and his fingers thread into the base of my braid in reply.

He stretches like a cat as I slide his undershirt up to his collarbone. Those wet, swollen lips fall open as the fabric catches on his nipples. I smile as I taste the soft skin of his earlobe. I want to tell him to just wait. I want to tell him that it gets so much better. But I don’t have to. I show him instead.

I hear his teeth snap closed, biting back a helpless sound of pleasure as my fingertips whisper over his nipples. His hips begin a steady rocking against my thigh and I know he’s not going to last much longer. I can hear it in his breathless pants. Taste it in the perspiration dotting his flushed skin. He lowers his chin and I look into his eyes.

_Am I inside you yet, Heero?_

He stares at me, his crotch rocking against me. He seems surprised by the heat, the intensity, the breathlessness. I’m not surprised. I’m honored, amazed, entranced. But not surprised. I’d hoped—for a very long time—that we would be like this together. 

Very deliberately, I shift my leg, generating a lazy friction through the fabric of his jeans. His breathing becomes harsher and I smile. He’s so beautiful. I listen to his breath hitch as my knuckles ghost down his abdomen to gently tug on the first button of his jeans. I dip two fingers past the waistband and rub small semicircles against his skin. 

_Will you let me, Heero?_

I lean close enough to kiss him but refrain. I want to watch him, inhale his hot, shallow breaths as I slowly slide each button free. His jeans droop on his hips and I become very aware of the fact that he’s completely open, exposed to me. I have to look down, imprint this moment on my memory.

He resettles his formidable grip on my shoulders and I’m glad for it. Heero can bend steel with his bare hands. I do not want those hands clutching at my neck as I attempt to drive him out of his mind with pleasure. I close the distance between our mouths again and kiss him slowly and deeply. The fabric of my uniform slides against his overheated skin and he shudders.

_Let me in..._

I curl my fingers around him and shiver as a long, breathless moan tumbles from his mouth and into mine. I caress him slowly, steadily. The feel of him is... beyond words. My body reacts to his display of trust, my hips moving against him in a matching rhythm. He pulls away from my mouth. I watch his lips forming my name and I know I’ll never be able to let him go now. He’s claimed me.

And then he’s trembling in my arms. Gasping. Grasping. I attempt to lick the breath from his lips as I feel his release shivering through his entire body. His eyes stay open, watching me witness the storm of his completion.

As long as I live, I will never forget this moment. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded. His mouth, open and panting. His skin, hot and damp. His smile... I will never forget that Heero had taken my face in his trembling hands and smiled for me. And the feel and sight of him had been so beautiful that I’d ached in the glow of his radiance.

** **...** **

** **“This is your copilot?”** **

I have to stop and think about Heero’s question. I pause in my rush to get the shuttle ready for launch and remember my silent passenger. “Um, yeah,” I tell him, feeling kind of stupid for having a doll of him strapped to the neighboring seat for company. I attempt to explain. “One of Quatre’s nieces made it for me in her crafts class.”

He studies the Heero Doll for a long moment. “Where are my shoes?”

He doesn’t seem too freaked out by its presence. That’s reassuring. “Those puke-yellow monstrosities?” I reply after resuming my launch preparations. “I got rid of those, first thing.” Then I think to add with a suggestive leer, “The tank top’s next.”

Heero seems impressed by my promise. He reaches out and plucks the doll from the seat then deposits him in the navigator’s chair. “You’ve been demoted,” he says.

I have to laugh.

“Shuttle 839, you have been cleared for launch.”

“Roger that,” I report back. “Commencing launch sequence.”

He sits back and watches me work. Luckily I have an easier time with piloting a shuttle under his intent gaze than I do eating. All four of us—shuttle, doll, Heero, and myself—escape the docking bay without any casualties.

After things have calmed to a moderately crazed pace, I remember my manners. “Why don’t you kick back and catch some sleep, Heero? I’ve got everything under control here...”

He hesitates and I tease, “What? You don’t trust me?” Considering what we’d just shared, the idea is laughable.

I hear him snort beside me but he doesn’t argue with my suggestion.

“Just put an astrosuit on first, will you?” I remember to ask.

“You expecting trouble?” He seems a little surprised by my request. I can’t figure out why. As if I’d knowingly endanger his life when precautions are readily available.

“Nah. Procedure, you know? I’ll get mine on after I’ve finished these calculations.”

He gets up and pops open the locker. I can hear him pulling on the astrosuit somewhere behind me. I try not to envy that astrosuit. I try very hard.

“Shall I take over?” he offers, sliding back into his seat.

I shake my head but don’t look away from the computer screens. “Naw, I’m good. I’ll be finished here in just a few more minutes.”

“Hm,” he says. Out of the corner of my eye, I sense him settle into the chair, cross his arms, and close his eyes. Within moments he’s asleep.

** **...** **

****God damn it.**** Why can’t I get these thrusters up past 85 per cent? I’ve tried everything and I’m starting to get really pissed off, here. I decide to reroute the necessary power through the back-up circuits. That should do the trick. And it would have if the back-up circuits hadn’t protested the command by spitting sparks out at me.

Oh, crap.

“Heero!” I put as much force into his name as I can. In the chair next to me, he jerks awake. “Get your mask on! Now!” It’s a struggle to keep the fear out of my voice. I _cannot_ let anything happen to him.

He doesn’t comply with my request after getting an eyeful of the crackling terminal. I’m not really surprised. Heero’s got this thing about taking charge of dangerous situations. He reaches for the terminal himself and I’m simply incapable of allowing him to help me until I know he’s protected.

“Mask! Now! Yuy!” I bark.

He doesn’t like it, but he flings himself out of the chair and rips open the locker. I can hear the seals snapping together as he dons the helmet and oxygen system. The deathgrip around my heart loosens just a smidgeon.

“Get your suit on!” he barks back and I remember I never did have the chance to get into my own gear. Too late now. 

He attempts to grab my wrists but I wriggle free. “I’ve almost got the access panel off!” I shout. Damn it, his “helping me” is so not helping me.

“God damn it, Duo, I’ll do it! Get your suit on!”

I hear the desperation in his voice but before I can dwell on it the panel pops off. “There! I’ve got— _Shit!”_

Okay, this is bad. I can’t see the wires and circuit boards for all the smoke pouring into the cockpit.

“Duo!” he shouts. “Get your suit on! I’ll deal with this.” 

Heero Yuy is nothing if not tenacious and with a sinking feeling I realize he’s going to get both of us killed trying to save me. I won’t let him do it. I’d been careless; I should have made both of us put on those damn astrosuits before I launched, but I hadn’t. Heero is _not _going to pay for my screw-up with his life.

“Heero.”

He turns at the sound of his name and before I can reconsider my own actions, I lean toward him and slam my fist into his gut. The air rushes out of him in a single gust and I wince in sympathy; I _know_ what it feels like to take one in the stomach.

Through the visor of the helmet, I see his lips move around the word “Why?”

And I have to answer him. “It’s for your own good.”

I lower him to the copilot’s chair, already regretting my actions but knowing there hadn’t been time for an alternative. I quickly belt him in and jump back into my own chair. This next bit’s gonna be tricky. I buckle down and weave my way through the smoke and sparks, typing in the command to close the oxygen tanks. Okay, that’s done. Now...

Now I have to decompress the ship. I don’t hesitate as I enter the codes. I remember to exhale as I press the enter key.

The effect is immediate. Air rushes against my ears as it’s sucked out into space. I try to keep my eyes open, try to watch the smoke. I’m pretty sure I’ll only get one shot at this so I need to be sure the fire’s completely out before I close the vents.

Black spots begin to dance around my field of vision and I hurry to get everything ready for my next command. All I have to do is press a single key and adjust a lever. But first I have to be sure.

So I wait.

My lungs are screaming at me. My vision is graying. I _think_ the fire’s out but I’m too far gone to be sure. If only I could have trusted Heero to let me do this, then _he _could have brought the life support system around when it’s safe to do so.

I start to pass out. I can’t wait any longer. I press the final key and the vents slam closed. I reach for the oxygen release and attempt to push the lever up to maximum. I think I manage to nudge it, but I’m not really sure. At that moment, the blackness reaches up and drags me away. 

** **...** **

** **“Wake up! Duo!”** **

I choke on the breath in my throat and start coughing. Pain explodes in my chest. Holy... What the hell? Did we crash? Did I get slammed against the controls? Did someone do a few dozen jumping jacks on my sternum?

With a small shake of my head, I blink open my eyes. I continue gasping for air but the vision above me—Wait... How did I end up on the floor of the cockpit?—shocks the rest of me into complete silence.

Heero leans over me with his helmet gone, suit peeled down his chest, breathing unsteady, and tears just _pouring_ out of his eyes and racing down his cheeks. I don’t even have the chance to ask him what happened when I feel his arms snaking around me and I’m suddenly in his lap being held onto for dear life...

And that’s when I get it. The pain in my chest... chest compressions... artificial resuscitation... The decompression had almost killed me.

My arms don’t feel so steady but I reach for him anyway and tangle my limbs into the bundle of flesh and fabric we’ve become. God, I’d almost lost him. I shiver and clasp him tighter. I hope Heero really likes me because I’m never letting go. Never.

** **...** **

** **I can’t sleep.** **

Carefully, I slide out of bed and wander out into the living room. Heero’s living room. I’ve lost count of the number of nights I’ve meandered by to visit these stripes of pale lamplight but I know it’s a lot. My fingers rub against my chest through my T-shirt as I attempt to massage the ache away. I know it won’t work, but I still try anyway. I know the only way I’ll eventually get to sleep is to pace and think and worry myself into exhaustion. It’s not the most healthy of sleep aids, but it usually works.

God... It’s been two months since that almost-accident on the shuttle and the memory of it still shakes me. At first, I couldn’t figure out why. I mean, after all the times I’d almost died during the war why am I having such a hard time with this? But then I think I figured it out.

I’d found Heero. I’d _just _found Heero. And I’d almost lost him.

And he’d almost lost me. Damn... That look on his face when he’d been trying to call me back... Those tears... I’d never seen Heero cry before. Jesus, what had I done to him? I think this is what keeps me awake at night: knowing I’d caused him that pain.

I am such an ass.

I sigh and try to remember something good... like the night we’d gone to the Omni Theater. I remember that moment when we’d stood in this room with bars of silver and shadow painting our bodies. I remember that perfect silence...

My thoughts grind to a halt. Something’s changed. I think I hear a sound coming from the bedroom but I’m not sure. I’m careful not to make too much noise on the hardwood floors as I creep back to check. I peer into the gloom and what I see makes me forget about being quiet. Heero sits up in bed, his face buried in his hands, his entire body shaking. Another nightmare. And I hadn’t been here for him when he’d woken up. Can I do _anything_ right lately?

I say his name as I crawl back into bed and slide an arm around his shoulders. He doesn’t make a sound but he sort of collapses on me. I wrap both arms around him and close my eyes. I shouldn’t have left the bed. I should have been here for him. God knows what he must have thought waking up alone...

“That dream again?” I whisper against his temple.

He nods against my neck. I can feel his breaths pour over my skin. “I couldn’t bring you back,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft I almost don’t hear him.

I begin to rub my hands over his damp clothes and skin. “But you did, Heero,” I quietly remind him. “You did bring me back.”

He curls around me and even though it makes it all that more difficult for me to get his sweat-soaked clothes off of him, I don’t ask him to let go of me. I don’t particularly want to let go of him. I close my eyes and concentrate on sending my body heat into his shaking muscles. And I feel like if we just stayed here—tangled around each other—long enough it would happen: the universe would stop spinning, our breaths would eventually combine, our heartbeats would synchronize, and we would remain in this perfect, warm, safe moment forever. The very image of it is so powerful that I can actually feel myself falling... into him.

** **

** **The End** **

**Author's Note:**

> Gundam Wing fanfic news & updates can be found on my Kofi page -- https://ko-fi.com/manny -- where I blog and (occasionally) post shinies and (compulsively) caffeinate. If you are inclined to support my habit, you can do so here. (^_~)
> 
> Also! My GW fanfic and fanart hub is still-always-and-forever at LiveJournal -- themanwell.livejournal.com

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Riding Out the Storm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716235) by [The Manwell (Manniness)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manniness/pseuds/The%20Manwell)


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